


Fire and Rain

by madnessandbrilliance



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Drabble dump, Established Relationship, Fluff, I'll add tags as I add snippets, Knight!Galo, M/M, Mild Smut, Mutual Pining, Prince!Lio, essentially snippets of stories I'll might/probably not finish, thats the writer's equivalent of a sketch dump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:54:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22459066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnessandbrilliance/pseuds/madnessandbrilliance
Summary: “Take care of my heart, Galo Thymos,” Lio murmurs, and his hands burn against where they rest just above Galo’s own galloping heartbeat. There’s a weight to his words that sinks deep into Galo’s skin as their eyes meet. There’s more truth to them than Galo knows what to do with. “It’s in your hands now.”__A "sketchdump" of Galolio interactions, from post-canon to AUs. Generally short, some are longer than others, but they're in love in every single one.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 28
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-canon, established relationship.

“You don’t have to do it alone, you know.”

They’re lying, stretched along the length of the couch, Galo’s hand running soothingly up the slope of Lio’s spine. Until that point they had been sitting in uncharacteristic silence, Lio finally coaxed into putting down his work for the ex-burnish refugees and rest for a moment, Galo unwilling to break the quiet with his usual rambling if it meant Lio would give himself a break. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud either, but, well. Acting without thinking is in his nature.

Lio gives a quiet hum in response. He tilts his head where it rests in the crook of Galo’s neck, and Galo feels the cold point of his nose brush his collarbone. “How many times do I have to tell you,” Lio says, voice low and throaty and thick with fondness. “I can’t continue conversations with you if you don’t say the beginning out loud.”

He gives the smallest wriggle and Galo realizes he’s stopped stroking Lio’s back. He resumes the motion, Lio melting into him like a cat. “You usually know what ‘m trying to say anyways,” Galo grumbles. Lio only hums again, so Galo tries to put it into words, since Lio likes words and doesn’t always get when Galo explains things with hand motions and sound effects. He wouldn’t be able to keep rubbing Lio’s back if he used hand motions, anyways.

“I’m just _mean_ ,” Galo begins, then pauses. He furrows his brow then tries again. “You don’t always have to be strong for everybody. I can be strong with you too.”

“I already know you’re strong.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Lio finally lifts his head up, giving Galo a blank stare. It would be more intimidating if his hair wasn’t mussed all around pink flushed cheeks and if Galo’s shirt wasn’t hanging off his shoulder. Galo resists the urge to pinch him and says instead, “I can take care of some of it for you.” He might not understand all the nuances and twists of policies and law and people, but he understands what it means to care. “You can trust me with it.”

At that, Lio sits up entirely, and Galo’s hand falls off his back. Vaguely, he wonders if Lio is gonna declare him a simpleton and go into a long explanation with big words and lots of fancy phrases to explain why Galo can’t rescue everyone with him.

Lio doesn’t say anything for a moment, delicate fingers tracing over the curve of Galo’s jaw, up his cheekbones, coming to cradle the back of his head in a gesture warmly familiar to Galo, especially when his other hand brushes Galo’s chin before tipping it up, gently, with two fingers. Even Galo isn’t stupid enough to not recognize it as a reversal of their positions from _that_ day, only instead of rubble and ash surrounding them it’s mismatched pillows on a threadbare couch, paperwork on a coffee table, Galo’s bright orange rescue jacket thrown over the arm of the chair and smelling faintly of Lio.

Galo’s burning soul sputters like a fire catching kindling.

“I do trust you,” Lio murmurs. “And I’ve already given you the most important thing to take care of.”

When Lio bends down to take Galo’s lips in his, it’s as warm as the first time. Lio may no longer have his flames, but Galo is sure he has fire in his veins anyways because everything about him burns against Galo, at every point their bodies make contact. Galo thinks— for a single, blasphemous moment-- that there are some fires that aren’t meant to be put out.

Lio pulls back, hands falling away from Galo’s face and coming to rest on Galo’s chest, giving him a gentle shove back as he tries to follow. Galo pouts—he can’t help it—but the expression drops almost immediately at the look on Lio’s face.

“Take care of my heart, Galo Thymos,” Lio murmurs, and his hands burn against where they rest just above Galo’s own galloping heartbeat. There’s a weight to his words that sinks deep into Galo’s skin as their eyes meet. There’s more truth to them than Galo knows what to do with. “It’s in your hands now.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They can't keep their hands off each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Context can be anywhere you want it to be, just in a hotel.

For a moment the room is bare of anything but soft grunts and heavy breaths. Hands drag over burning skin, noses across cheekbones, mouths pushing against each other with a clawing desperation Galo feels deep in his gut. When Lio nips at his lower lip, tugging lightly before pushing down on the back of Galo’s head and deepening the kiss, hungry and wanting, Galo can’t help the groan that escapes him.

“Mmm.”

“ _Ah_.”

There’s the clinking of a buckle now, Lio’s hands finally dropped from Galo’s hair to fumble at the clasp of his belt, and Galo should probably pull away and give Lio a chance to finish before kissing him again, it’s too dark to see ( _they hadn’t even managed to turn the lights on)—_

But he doesn’t _want_ to. He can’t bring himself to tear himself away longer than to take a ragged breath before sinking deeper, the drag of his mouth rising in urgency as Lio moves against him. Lio doesn’t want to pull away either, Galo realizes, when he’s pressed back against the wall with the force of Lio’s kiss. Mouth wider, taking more and more of Lio’s scorching tongue, the skim of it against Galo’s sending sparks skittering up Galo’s spine and _yeah_ the belt needs to come off.

“H— _Lio—”_

Galo’s hands join Lio’s, pulling with increasing desperation against the cold metal and leather, fingers tangling with each frantic tug. The air is thick, cloying, smelling of sweat and desire and Galo is entirely dizzy with it. They push, and pull, and claw, until Galo feels like he could vibrate out of his skin with the force of it, and the belt _still isn’t off_ —

Lio’s hands give one final, forceful pull on the buckle before he breaks their kiss with a wet sounding pop, but he doesn’t go far. Their foreheads press together, hot breaths mingling as they pant, and the sound of it is like an inferno. Lio lets out huff of raspy laughter against Galo’s lips. “Fuck.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince/Knight AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Context... Galo got poisoned taking a knife for Lio.

"We can give you five minutes."

Meis' words are a murmur Lio can hardly hear over the crackle of the torch in the room. The door shuts with a heavy thunk, hiding his and Gueira's sad, knowing looks. Lio hates that he recognizes the pity in their expressions. He knows why they pity him, but he refuses to accept it. He refuses to believe Galo will...

Lio finds himself kneeling next to Galo's cot before his mind thinks to move. Galo's brow is furrowed in a way Lio has never seen-- never wanted to see-- on his face before. There is a thin sheen of sweat on his skin, his hair limp and sticking to his forehead. Already, there is a dark, ominous vein stretching from underneath the pink-stained bandage around his shoulder. Despite this, he's trembling, the muscles in his neck clenching every so often. Unconscious, he still looks like he's fighting... something.

Lio wouldn't put it past him to keep fighting.

"You really are--" Lio's voice breaks. He blinks rapidly. "--an idiot."

A pause. He waits, as if Galo will sit up, grin at him. Wink and announce, the kingdom's number one idiot knight.

Galo doesn't. Lio's head drops onto his uninjured shoulder, and he begins to shake.

"I'm so sorry. Galo, I'm sorry." The words catch, stick on the lump in his throat and choke him. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this. I'm sorry for pushing you away, and hurting you. I'm-- I'm sorry for letting you believe you meant anything less to me than-- than what you--"

His tears fall onto Galo's cold skin, mixing with the sweat. "You deserve so much more. You deserve everything. And-- I'll give it to you, anything you want, if you just live through this. Please, Galo."

For a moment, no more words come. Lio succumbs to it, the overwhelming guilt and fear, the desperation that claws at him from the inside out. He did this to Galo. He did this to the man he loved. And he'd never even told him, never showed him how much he meant. Galo shudders underneath him, and Lio's hand tightens where he's wrapped it against Galo's limp fingers. He chokes back another wrenching sob, but the tears fall faster.

"I'm going to fix this," he gasps. "I promise. I'll fix everything and you can tell me I was wrong. But you have to live for that, alright? You have to live for me to tell you that you were right. And that I--"

Lio stops himself. He won't say it like this. Galo deserves to hear it when he's smiling, under a warm sun with a smile on his face. Maybe at the lake they frequented, so many months ago. He deserves to hear it happy and safe and full of the life he always seems to exude.

"You will not die on me before I can tell you, Galo. You hear me?"

There is a knock on the door. Lio sits up, but can't find it in himself to lift himself off the floor. His hand remains clenched around Galo's. He knows his silk-woven pants are ruined beyond repair with the dust of the medicine bay, and that Meis and Gueira will be horrified at the sight of him, but none of that matters now.

"Boss?" The door opens, its loud creak masking Lio's shaky breathing. "It's time."

Meis and Gueira step into the room. Lio sees Gueira's eyes widen when he spots Lio kneeling, so undignified. He opens his mouth as if to protest, but Meis subtly nudges him, eyes politely diverted, and Gueira's mouth snaps shut. Lio forces himself to stand, unwillingly releasing Galo's hand and dusting himself off. He doesn't want to leave, but he knows he must.

"Alright," He rasps. His throat feels raw from trying to hold back his weeping, and he isn't sure he succeeded. Meis and Gueira might have heard it all.

Gueira steps back out into the hall, weapon at the ready. Meis hangs back, waiting for Lio to follow. But Lio pauses and looks back at Galo, swallowing heavily.

Walking away like this feels like cutting off his own limb. Like losing his left arm, his lungs, his heart. Galo's chest heaves, his breaths coming in shuddering, shallow gasps, and it hurts to see him like this.

"Don't you dare die, Galo Thymos. Your prince commands it."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Historical AU. Originally written for an IP speakeasy fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a probably-abandoned scene in a Speakeasy AU WIP, so think of the time period being around the 1920s.

There’s something about this hotel room, miles out from the city they both feel so trapped in, that feels diaphanous, like the slightest breath would send it crumbling into reality. In the lateness of the hour, the faint light of the moon shining through the gossamer curtains, Lio feels a sense of fleeting placidity that curls up his chest and into his throat like smoke.

He finishes lighting the lamp and watches as the light flickers across the room, casting shadows over Galo’s profile. His sharp jaw and aquiline nose are even more appealing in the low firelight. The bruise across his cheekbone is not.

Lio doesn’t even realize he’s crossed the room until Galo is staring up at him, eyes wide and crystalline. His cheeks are flushed under the gentle caress of Lio’s thumb, passing over the blue-black mark. Galo shifts on his seat at the end of edge of the bed—the only bed in the room, Lio thinks with something akin to hunger. When he speaks, his voice is rougher than he meant it to be.

“You shouldn’t have let yourself get hurt for my sake.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Galo exhales. His brow furrows. Lio wants to kiss it the line that appears there, so he does, smiling at Galo’s shuddering breath in response. “ _Ah_. I—I told you already. I’m not leaving you behind.”

“Hm.”

“Besides,” Galo continues even as his hands slide up the back of Lio’s thighs, lingering over the curve of his ass, settling at his hips. He doesn’t even seem to realize he’s doing it, focused as he is on his words. Lio hums again to show he’s listening as he bites on Galo’s earlobe. “You wouldn’t ended up there if it hadn’t been for me. If I’d been—”

“Don’t.” Lio finally pulls back, gripping Galo by the shoulders and forcing them to make eye contact. Galo puffs up, ready to argue, guilt etched into his expression, but Lio gives him the slightest shake and continues before he’s able to speak. “Don’t blame yourself for something only Kray is responsible for, do you understand? I won’t have it. Not today, not _ever_.”

When Galo opens his mouth to disagree, Lio takes advantage of it, lifting his hands to Galo’s face and kissing him deeply, pouring every ounce of affection, of gratitude, of longing, that he has in him. It’s messy and intense, but Galo’s groan in response is proof that it does its job. He buries his hands into the shaggy mess that is Galo’s hair as Galo stands them up, bracing hands under Lio’s thighs until Lio is able to wrap his legs around Galo’s waist.

“Come bathe with me,” Lio murmurs against Galo’s lips, then clenches his thighs tight as Galo almost drops him in shock. Almost immediately, Galo re-establishes his grip on Lio’s legs, but he stares at Lio with undisguised surprise, and the slightest uncertainty. As he watches, waiting, the look shifts to arousal, desire, and an overwhelming, warm affection.

“Yeah.” Galo says, and kisses him once, chaste and sweet. “Yeah, okay.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They can't keep their hands of each other part 2, but soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any context! They're just in love, is all.

Galo never could have imagined them like this, breathing in each other’s air, burning in each other’s heat. Lio is already impossibly close, but—slow and dazed, as if he can’t help it—he steps forward until his knees push into the bed, shoving Galo’s thighs further apart. Their chests are touching now, and if Galo were anyone else he might’ve lain back onto the mattress instead of sitting, hungry and defiant, at the edge of the bed-- but he was never one to back down to Lio easily.

Lio isn’t looking at him. He isn’t looking, yet somehow Galo feels naked despite being fully clothed. He’s too close. He’s not close enough. The thoughts grapple in Galo’s head like tangled ropes until Lio’s fingers reach up and toy with the edge of Galo collar. Galo’s breath hitches. His mind goes blissfully silent.

It’s as though Lio is hypnotized. His fingers trail along the buttons of Galo’s shirt, light as air, unhurried and delicate in their ministrations. He doesn’t look away from their path, but Galo is fixated on Lio’s face, the way his bangs cast shadows over his eyes, the soft pink of his lips, slightly parted and wet. When the tips of his fingers finally brush, cold and burning, under the shirt and against Galo’s stomach, Galo can’t help the shaky exhale that escapes him. It seems to break the trance.

They make eye contact for the first time in what feels like hours. Had it only been a few minutes since they arrived at this hotel room? It couldn’t be possible.

“Lio,” Galo finally manages, but he doesn’t sound like himself—his voice breaks on the second syllable, stretching Lio’s name into a tightrope he’s on the verge of toppling off of. Lio only gives a quiet hum of response, hand pulling away from Galo’s shirt to cup his cheek.

It’s all too slow. Are they even moving? Lio’s hair tickles Galo’s temple. Their noses brush. Galo is aching with it, the urge to close the gap, but this pace isn’t his to set, much as he would like to.

The barest graze of lips. It’s hardly anything, but the contact seems to send waves of flames through Galo’s body. Lio sighs, soft, and that’s enough.

A push on his chest makes Galo pause. He pulls back, questioning, only to swallow his confusion to the press of a mouth against his, again, ephemeral and fleeting. “Down,” Lio breathes against him. His voice is low, lips brushing Galo’s as he speaks, and though he doesn’t speak with urgency or authority in his tone, it’s clearly a command. Lio speaks like a general, a praetor, fire in his eyes and the power of gods and legions behind him.

With Lio’s hand on his chest and their foreheads pressed together, Galo lets himself fall back onto the bed. Lio hovers over him, their breaths mingling, one hand bracing his weight, the other once again toying with Galo’s shirt buttons. “Good,” Lio exhales, and the praise rockets through Galo, electric.

The next kiss is deeper, richer, digging its way down Galo’s throat and burying itself into his heart, a firework launched directly into his sternum. Lio is cloyingly sweet. His smell, his taste, all honey and roses and burning sugar. Galo’s brain function finally returns enough to lift his hand to the back of Lio’s head, opening his mouth to capture Lio’s sigh as his fingers curl into the soft locks.

They sink closer and Galo wants to _go_ , to push until they’re both flushed and heady, but it’s Lio setting the pace, Lio’s weight bearing down on him, Lio pulling away every time Galo urges forward, Lio’s nose brushing his cheeks, nose, temple in elusive eskimo kisses. He hadn’t known Lio could be so soft. It was painful, tantalizing, it set his nerves on end. There’s intent there, but also reverence. Lio’s knee shifts against his thigh, then slides up, _up_ , until there is the barest of pressure against Galo’s groin. Galo gasps, and Lio swallows it in another kiss.

It’s not urgent. Galo wants to rut up against Lio’s knee, but everything else about Lio’s touch is so measured that even that carnal pleasure fades to the sensation of Lio’s hands, his chest, his mouth.

Lio pulls away so slowly, Galo doesn’t realize he’s done so until the cold air brushes his lips. Somehow Galo’s hand has pushed Lio’s collar aside, exposing his shoulder, and Galo’s shirt has ended up unbuttoned. Lio gazes down at him, and the fire in his eyes has dimmed to embers, glowing and gentle but no less warm.

“You’re shaking,” Lio says, wonder in his voice, and it’s only when his hand slides up Galo’s chest and neck to his jaw yet again that Galo feels himself trembling, miniscule shivers running through his body from the point Lio’s legs press onto his. _No way_ , Galo wants to say, but for the first time, words don’t come to him. Lio is pink and awestruck above him, and Galo still feels the echo of every brush of Lio’s skin against him. Instead, he grabs the hand on his neck and turns it, pressing his lips to the inside of Lio’s wrist, savoring the shudder that goes through the man above him, before lacing their fingers together.

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these won't be related to each other and many of them won't have context! If need be, I'll add it in the notes but feel free to ask about them. I'm just compiling all my work into one place.


End file.
